


Not Merry, But Bright

by MorteLise



Category: RWBY
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Sex, Awkwardness, Christmas Eve, Dealing With Loss, Domestic Fluff, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family Bonding, Family Feels, Fluff, I won't lie this is like ninety seven percent awkward family bonding and three percent smut, M/M, so if you're here for the smut then sorry it's mostly gonna be
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-24
Updated: 2018-12-24
Packaged: 2019-09-26 02:15:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17133140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MorteLise/pseuds/MorteLise
Summary: Ozpin's plans of giving Oscar a fun first Christmas with their family are dashed when a blizzard leaves them snowed in and Qrow stranded miles away right before Christmas Eve.But maybe the time to sit down and talk is really what they needed after all, and Qrow isn't as far off as he thinks.





	Not Merry, But Bright

**Author's Note:**

> Written as [ninja's](http://ninja46464.tumblr.com/) gift for the [Ozqrow Secret Santa!](https://ozqrowsecretsanta.tumblr.com/) The prompts were family ozqrow with Oscar as their son, punkstar!qrow and writer!ozpin, aaaand smut! This kind of got away from me but hopefully I've ticked all those boxes to your satisfaction~ ~~considering this is the first time I've written smut I'm so sorry~~
> 
> Merry Christmas! :D

There were less than twenty-seven hours left until Christmas, and Ozpin was definitely not panicking.

He didn’t think he’d be unjustified in doing so, but panic wouldn’t regain any of his lost control over the situation.

So, not panicking.

“It’s still comin’ down, huh?” Qrow said over the phone, and Ozpin sighed, squinting through the darkness outside his window at the steadily falling snowflakes.

“Yes, it’s shaping up to be a white Christmas, at least,” he said, letting the curtain fall back into place. “But I doubt the inbound flights are any less canceled than the outbound.”

“Nope,” Qrow agreed. There was a brief increase in ambient noise silenced by the slam of a door in the background. “They refunded my ticket, but nobody’s flying out there any time soon. I checked.”

Of course he had.

Not panicking, Ozpin. Hold on to that.

“As long as you stay safe,” he said, because that was the real priority to keep sight of. As long as they had their health—well, that was something.

Qrow snorted. “I’m not the one stuck in Blizzard Hell,” he pointed out. “How’s Oscar taking it?”

Wasn’t that the question of the hour.

“Superficially, he seems to be taking it well,” Ozpin said, glancing down the hall to the closed door behind which Oscar had announced he was settling down with a good book for the night.

“And actually?”

He frowned. “Hard to say,” he admitted. “Maybe we should’ve taken Taiyang up on his offer after all.”

Qrow snickered. “Sounds like _someone’s_ getting bent out of shape,” he said teasingly. “And it’s not Oscar. Without me there, your Christmas is finally sounding like it might actually be quiet, low-key Yuletide you were shooting for. But instead now you’re saying you should’ve exposed the kid to the Christmas Effigy on year one just because it’d be easier to hand off some of the pressure to the Xiao Long-Roses?”

Well. Fair.

Ozpin was becoming increasingly grateful he’d chosen to make the call, even though the preliminary news had been bad.

“Surely they’ll be smart enough to wait a few days in this weather,” he said, smiling in spite of himself. “Especially after that call to the fire department last year.”

“Wouldn’t count on it,” Qrow said with an alarming amount of certainty.

“Maybe if the girls hadn’t had such a bad influence for an uncle—”

“Hey,” Qrow said in mock-offense, “I keep telling you Tai was the pyrotechnics guy of the band. You’ll notice I stopped setting myself on fire once I took the act solo.”

Ozpin chuckled. “Yes, true.” He glanced around and suddenly realized he had no clock within his line of sight. “How much time left before you need to go on?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Qrow said dismissively, which was not the best attitude to have towards the last show on his winter tour, but Ozpin felt touched nonetheless. “Oz. You got this.”

He took a shaky breath. “I certainly hope so,” he said. “Fatherhood isn’t something that comes naturally, and while we’ve been doing our best to take Oscar’s wishes into account, I know that without your influence my celebratory habits have been widely considered too aloof, too sophisticated—”

“So- _fish_ -ticated,” Qrow cut in with an air of smugness, like the pun fit anywhere in the context of the conversation, and not for the first time Ozpin wondered if there was a way to divorce his brother-in-law. Or whatever Taiyang was, legally speaking, given the relationship snarl that was the remainder of STRQ.

“Qrow.”

“Oz,” Qrow shot back playfully. “Relax.”

Point taken.

Ozpin took a calming breath in and out. “I’ll do my best,” he said, and smiled in spite of himself. “Thank you.”

“Hey, what am I here for?” Qrow said, soft and fond and miles away, and Ozpin’s heart warmed and ached in equal measure.

A sudden and startling increase in volume and collective, anonymous alarm on Qrow’s end of the line put a quick end to that. Ozpin frowned.

“Are you supposed to be on stage right now?” he asked.

“Oh. Yeah.”

God help him. “Well, go!”

Qrow went, presumably, if the ‘Call Ended’ flashing on the screen was anything to go by. Ozpin placed his phone on to the charging dock it sorely needed with a wearied sigh.

Then he gathered up the courage to go and knock on Oscar’s door.

“A good book, I hope?” he said with a smile as he opened the door, having been given the verbal go-ahead.

Oscar looked up, giving the book another self-conscious glance at the question and tilting the cover out of view. “Oh, uh—yeah,” he said, sticking in a bookmark and setting it aside. “How’s Qrow?”

Ozpin’s smile turned rueful. “Stuck in Chicago, I’m afraid,” he said. “And possibly a bit late for his final show thanks to me.”

Oscar huffed a soft laugh. “It would’ve been nice to see that,” he said, then winced. “I mean—you can’t control the weather—”

Oh, dear. Qrow was a much-missed buffer.

“Indeed I can’t,” Ozpin said blithely, and raised a playful eyebrow. “As far as you know, anyway.” He felt his smile falter. “I am sorry we weren’t able to make it out. Is it all right that it’s just the two of us snowed in at the apartment instead?”

Oscar shrugged. “Yeah it’s fine,” he said. “That’s more what I’m used to, anyway. When it was me and Mom it’d just be the two of us—”

He stopped, face crumpling as he stared down at the comforter.

Ozpin sat down at the edge of the bed, uncertain of what to do with his hands. He kept himself within hugging range, didn’t think it appropriate to make the first move; Oscar glanced at him with teary eyes but wrapped his arms around his pillow instead.

“Is there anything I can do?” Ozpin asked gently, and Oscar shook his head.

“No, I—it’s getting better,” he said with a watery smile, wiping away tears and inadvertently placing his hand on his discarded book.

Ozpin found his eyes drawn to the book in turn, and realized with surprise and a sting of nerves that it was one of his. Oscar noticed the shift in expression and held up the book with a mixture of mortification and relief.

“I figured it was about time I got around to reading one of your series, they’re all over the apartment,” he said sheepishly. “That’s okay, right?”

“Of course,” Ozpin said, with no small measure of his own relief at the subject change. “Although I admit I’m even more curious as to what you think about it now.”

Oscar smoothed his hands over the cover. “Well I’m only on the second one,” he said. “But I’ve always liked fantasy, so it’s fun so far—August is my favorite character.” He scrunched up his nose. “I gotta ask though, does April get any better? Because I feel like August should’ve gotten tired of pulling knives out of her back a long time ago.”

Ozpin smiled in spite of himself. “April is—complex,” he said. “But she does at least discover that even her closest friends have their limits. As for what she does with the information, I’m afraid that would be too much of a spoiler to share just yet.”

Oscar pouted. “What’s the point in living with an author if he won’t even give you spoilers?”

Ozpin chuckled. “If I get too far ahead of myself, I might end up giving you the wrong information. Characters can be fickle. Some of the canon hasn’t quite…settled, yet.”

“Uh, speaking of, weren’t you supposed to call back Ms. Goodwitch? Did you make your word count?”

Now there was something Ozpin had been avoiding thinking about. “That can wait,” he said quickly. “Even Glynda can respect the holidays. And she knows what a turbulent year it’s been.”

Probably.

Oscar looked equally skeptical. “So that means she won’t kill you…?”

Not in the storm, at least. Not in those heels. “There’s no need to feel so intimidated by her, Oscar.”

“I disagree.”

Ozpin felt some of the tension unwind in his chest as they eased into conversation.

Maybe—maybe things would work out. Even with Qrow several states away.

One could only hope.

-

They were woefully under stocked for the next couple days, Ozpin discovered Christmas Eve morning, staring into the fridge in dismay.

Too many eggs in the wrong basket from their weather-foiled plans to meet Qrow in Chicago to catch his final show and spend the holiday abroad. Ozpin could’ve kicked himself. Qrow, for all his impulsiveness, was adamant on preparing for the worst, but alas, Ozpin remained the optimist.

In this case, Qrow had been in the right.

Well, he’d work with what he had. It was the holidays, after all.

Ozpin preheated the oven and set to work on a fresh batch of cookies, doing his best not to glance at his phone too much.

It was still early. And Qrow had had a late night and was an hour behind besides.

(The snow had stopped for the moment. But the streets would take time to be cleared and getting a flight over the next couple days would be bedlam.)

“We’re having cookies for breakfast?” Oscar asked, rubbing sleep from his eyes as he shuffled into the kitchen in pajamas and fuzzy slippers.

“It might have to substitute one meal,” Ozpin admitted, sifting flour into a mixing bowl. “But we still have some cereal left if you’d prefer it not be breakfast. And feel free to help yourself to the streaming service of your choice in the living room while I finish things up here. I shouldn’t be too long.”

“I’m good for now,” Oscar said, eyeing the table, then added hesitantly, “Do you think you’ll need any help?”

Ozpin glanced back up in surprise. “I’d love some, if you don’t mind,” he said, standing aside and handing him the laminated recipe sheet. “Could you please measure out the remaining ingredients for me?”

“Sure!” Oscar said, grabbing the sheet and immediately looking slightly overwhelmed. “So is everything already on the table, or is some of this stuff in the pantry…”

“Everything should already be on the table.”

Oscar frowned and stared at the sheet harder. “Right…and the measuring thingies?”

Ozpin fished them out from between the sugar and the salt. Oscar sighed.

“I’m not helping much, am I?”

It was a pity there was no recipe sheet for parenting.

“You’re doing fine,” Ozpin said gently. “I’m grateful to have the assistance. Qrow’s not much for baking, and the few times he’s tried have ended in disaster.” He slid a bag towards Oscar. “Let’s start with the sugar, shall we?”

They worked a few minutes in silence, punctuated only by the ping of the oven reaching its predetermined temperature.

“This apartment,” Oscar began slowly, spooning balls of dough onto the greased pan, “is it the same one Mom stayed with you in?”

Ozpin paused. He supposed they were bound to get around to that sooner or later.

“No,” he replied. “Qrow and I moved here not long after we got married. The apartment your mother and I shared was—much less homey. I hadn’t intended to stay there anymore than she had, but my ex-wife had gotten the house in the divorce.” He smiled wryly. “Your mother and I were never especially close cousins, but we happened to find each other at our lowest. I was too busy drowning my own sorrows to offer her much emotional support for her unexpected pregnancy and disownment, but I was at least able to provide a roof over her head for as long as she needed it.”

He doubted that was as illuminating about Oscar’s mother’s past as Oscar had been hoping it would be, judging by his disappointed expression.

“Well, she was definitely grateful,” Oscar said finally with a bit of a forced smile of his own. “I mean,” he gestured at himself demonstratively with the wooden spoon.

“I was grateful to have her as well,” Ozpin admitted. “The rest of the Pine family is…we weren’t their kind of people at the end of the day. And it was easier to distance ourselves from them as much as they had in kind knowing that we weren’t alone. Emily chose to do so with physical distance by moving to the other side of the country not long after she had you, and I chose to bury the name when I returned to writing.”

Oscar handed him the cookie pan. “So that’s where Ozpin came from?”

“A fanciful nickname I came up with in my youth,” Ozpin said, placing the pan in the oven. “One I stopped using after too much familial mockery. So it was vindicating to take it back in pursuit of a profession they never approved of either.”

He straightened up and set a timer, to see Oscar staring at him skeptically. “Yes?”

“I mean,” Oscar said, tone skirting somewhere between nervous and teasing. “You have to admit it’s kinda…” He tossed the spoon in the sink while trying to think up a proper description. “Like, Ozpin? Really?”

Ozpin crossed his arms in mock-affront. “It suits the fantasy genre, doesn’t it? And you should be grateful I use it. Qrow wouldn’t need much of an excuse to call you ‘Junior’ otherwise.”

Oscar made a face. “Ugh. Okay, that’s fair.”

The sudden ring of Ozpin’s phone startled them both, and Ozpin swiped a smear of butter grease on the screen in his rush to answer, hitting speakerphone and then hurriedly washing his hands.

“Sorry for the noise, we’re in the middle of baking—”

“You never called me back.”

Ozpin winced and shut off the water. He really should’ve checked the caller ID before answering. Oscar was staring between him and the phone, wide-eyed and mostly cowed but with a hint of I-told-you-so.

“Glynda,” Ozpin sighed, drying his hands. “Things have been a little hectic here—”

“I know,” she replied tartly. “And I understand just fine. What I don’t understand is why you’d keep avoiding me instead of discussing whether or not we need to push the publication of your next book back. Life happens. We need to stay in touch so we can plan accordingly for it. Do you think I want to be bothering you on Christmas Eve like the publication Grinch?”

“It’s my fault, Ms. Goodwitch,” Oscar piped up. “I’ve just been upset about missing the show and the flight and Qrow and all, and Oz has been really supportive—”

Glynda cleared her throat sheepishly. “Of course,” she said, and Ozpin mouthed an emphatic ‘thank you’ to him from at the sink. “We’ll pick this up again after Christmas. For real this time, promise?”

“I promise,” Ozpin said, mostly sincerely. “Happy holidays, Glynda.”

“Happy holidays,” she replied shortly, and hung up the phone.

Ozpin raised an eyebrow at an adamantly angelic Oscar. “So, what do I owe you?”

He shrugged. “How about telling me what happens to April?” he asked, and Ozpin gave a short laugh of surprise.

A small price to pay, then. And a flattering one.

“August finally abandons her after she sells out the team directly,” he said, “forcing April to strike out on her own and reassess her self-centered actions. But I really haven’t decided how profound a change it forces her to make or whether it’ll be enough for them to take her back.” He grimaced. “I’m not sure whether it’s better to keep her true to her real life inspiration or to fully embrace the wish fulfillment,” he admitted.

“She’s based a real person?” Oscar asked. He frowned. “Is it—”

“No,” Ozpin said quickly. Salem wasn’t a demon he’d found the courage to face again, even in fiction. “Someone from Qrow’s life rather than my own. I’m afraid you’d have to get the full story from him.”

Oscar went to wash his own hands, nodding in sudden understanding. “And he’s cool with you using her? It’s not weird, or anything?”

“As an artist himself, Qrow is all too familiar with tapping life experience for inspiration,” Ozpin said. “And goodness knows he remembers the days when people were happy to put all of STRQ’s lives under a microscope during their heyday and messy breakup. He hasn’t had the chance to read the books yet, but I’ve made sure to get his approval as to how any fictional representations are used. April is certainly easier to control than her inspiration ever was.”

April and August had been created more for Yang and Ruby’s benefit, anyway. Ozpin was a bit hopeless at fixing real life problems, but he had no problem tackling the fictional equivalents. Books gave them what reality had not.

In the books, April stayed. August lived.

“It’s easier to make up a happy ending than to get one, huh?” Oscar added, wistful and a little too on the nose.

“I’ve always found so,” said Ozpin, and patted him on the shoulder. “But you get the best results by trying for both.”

-

Qrow never called.

What had seemed justified at 8AM was less so after noon, during which Ozpin and Oscar ate too many of the freshly baked cookies and Ozpin tried again not to think about how under qualified he was to entertain a still-mourning teenage boy by his lonesome.

It was a stroke of luck that they’d had fiction to default to, but that would only take him so far.

“Is there a movie you want to watch?” he asked a little bit desperately, grateful that at the very least there would be presents to unwrap the next day to eat up some time.

Oscar shrugged. “I dunno. You pick one.”

“Have you ever seen _It’s a Wonderful Life_? It’s a classic.”

Oscar squinted at the black-and-white cover. “Wow, yeah it is. Uh. Okay.”

The movie did not seem to be Oscar’s cup of tea. He sat through it quietly enough, but mostly seemed to be watching out of a need to excuse the silence rather than any personal interest.

But maybe that was Ozpin projecting.

“Do you think you’d be better off without me?” Oscar asked as George Bailey wandered through a town that had never known him.

Ozpin turned to him, stunned. “Oscar, what—that’s not why I put this on, if that’s why you’re asking, in fact it teaches the opposite lesson—”

Oscar shook his head. “No, I—Mom used to talk about how you were there for her when she really needed you, but that was a short term thing. Now you’re stuck with some kid you barely know because you’re the least terrible person she could think of in her life as a guardian? And I know I’m still not over it, and it didn’t mean as much to you, and it’s _weird_ , and you had your own life and now even the family stuff is going wrong—“

“Oscar,” Ozpin said sharply, switching the movie off and turning to give him his full attention. “You are _not_ a burden. And I am so sorry if I ever gave you the impression that you were.”

He took a shaky breath. “We Pines are good at burying things,” he said with a rueful smile. “It’s our one universal constant. But far from a healthy one. And I’m sure it’s made me terrible at asking the right questions while you’re still mourning but please, never feel afraid to bring it up.”

Oscar stared at his hands. “It’s so dumb,” he said, sniffling. “I should be over it by now, right? I had plenty of time to get ready for it while she was sick, and it’s been months—”

“Grief isn’t an easy wound to heal,” Ozpin said quietly. “And in fact if you think a professional would be able to help you with it better—”

“The grief counselor was bad enough, I don’t need a therapist,” Oscar scoffed, offended.

“I did,” replied Ozpin, and Oscar looked surprised. “That’s where I first met Qrow, in fact; we shared the same therapist and ran into each other as I was leaving my session and he was starting his. Both of us clawing our way up from rock bottom after we could no longer ignore the downward spiral my messy divorce and the death of his best friend following the end of his music career had sent us into. Both years after the initial incident, even.” He raised a pointed eyebrow. “In case you’d like a cautionary tale for where ignoring it can lead.”

Oscar frowned thoughtfully.

“We Pines are good at burying things,” Ozpin said again. “But the problem with buried things is that they often grow.”

“Can I start with just talking to you, first?” Oscar asked finally. “Before trying the ‘professional help?’” he added, gloomily forming the quotation marks with his fingers.

Ozpin smiled, relieved. “Of course, I’m sorry if I in any way discouraged that,” he said. “But regrettably I’m much more adept at fixing fictional problems than real ones.”

Oscar snorted. “Who isn’t?” he pointed out. “And, um. It’s fine, by the way? If you wanna hug me. Like I couldn’t tell whether you didn’t want to, or if you thought I didn’t want you to, but yeah, it’s uh. Fine.”

“Oh,” Ozpin said faintly, surprised and a little embarrassed that he’d noticed. “Well, good.”

Oscar, it turned out, had needed a hug very badly indeed.

-

Qrow continued not to call. Or answer calls, or text messages, and honestly Ozpin would’ve been ready to kill him if he wasn’t so busy worrying that it meant he was already dead.

After a dinner only slightly less sugary than lunch, Oscar decided to take matters into his own hands.

“You taught me how to bake, how about I teach you how to play video games?” he said, dragging Ozpin away from his phone and waving the latest Smash Brothers game jacket in his face.

“Both Qrow and the girls have tried, but I’m a hopeless cause,” said Ozpin. He thought a moment and admitted, “Although their entire family is more interested in competition than teaching. Difficult to learn the controls when you’re too busy dying.”

Oscar narrowed his eyes in determination. “Then I’m gonna teach you to play it right, and we are gonna kick Qrow’s butt when he gets home.”

Which he would. Of course. Why wouldn’t he? His phone had probably died. Or maybe he’d gotten caught up in something after the show.

He was _fine_.

Ozpin forced a smile. “Alright, I accept,” he said.

It turned out there was a team mode for the game. Who knew?

“So, Zelda, huh?” Oscar said, sending a Pokemon flying with a kick from the ninja he’d selected for himself.

“What little I can do in gaming I usually do best with casters,” Ozpin admitted, dredging up the term from one of Qrow’s many excitedly shouted conversations with his nieces. “Is she an unconventional choice?”

Oscar laughed. “No, it’s just—she and Sheik are technically the same person,” he said, nodding at his ninja. “Um. Maybe it’s funnier if you’ve played the Zelda games, sorry.”

Maybe it was, but— “It’s a happy coincidence,” Ozpin said agreeably, hoping that was the right response.

There was a sudden explosion of noise that did not come from the television.

In fact, it sounded as though it’d come from the entrance to the apartment.

Oscar paused the game as they exchanged a worried glance.

There was the further sound of falling objects and quiet cursing as the door banged on its hinges. Ozpin quietly got up and signaled for Oscar to stay put.

“Hello?” he called, keeping a tight grip on his phone as he leaned into the hallway.

“Hey,” Qrow said, flat on the floor and covered in a mixture of presents and grocery bags. “You wanna help a guy out here?”

Ozpin’s jaw dropped. “Qrow?”

“ _How_?” Oscar yelped behind him, dropping the roll of wrapping paper he’d been brandishing like a baseball bat and racing to help.

“What, you thought I wasn’t gonna make it back here in time for Christmas just because all the flights were canceled and you guys were buried in snow?” Qrow said, stacking some of the fallen presents. “Actually, I didn’t think I’d make it back this early either, but it turns out my fans are just as crazy as I am.”

“You bribed your fans to make a twelve-hour drive to Manhattan?” Ozpin said incredulously. “In the snow?” He held up an entire Christmas ham in befuddlement. “And buy you a ham?”

“Yep,” Qrow said, finally making it to his feet. He’d left a puddle on the floor, and upon further inspection his clothes were encrusted in rapidly melting snow. “Took a lot of favors, and a lot of caffeine, and I’m out of the spare merch I brought to the concert, and if the house phone rings that means Shiro got arrested and I’m gonna need to go bail him out—”

“Qrow,” Ozpin said, pinching the bridge of his nose and still too stunned to be anything close to useful as Oscar flitted back and forth putting the various fallen items somewhere more convenient than the entrance floor, “where is your phone?”

Qrow shrugged. “Somewhere between donated and stolen,” he admitted. “But it’s worth it if it got me a full Christmas dinner.”

“You can’t _trade your phone for groceries_ —”

“Well the city’s still too snowed out to find a place to buy any,” Qrow pointed out. He leaned past Ozpin to where Oscar was still gathering up said groceries. “Hey kid, how many meals today were cookies?”

Low blow, Qrow.

Oscar paused, looking guilty. “I had cereal for breakfast,” he said defensively. “And we had a salad with dinner?”

Qrow raised a pointed eyebrow at his husband.

Ozpin sighed. “Alright, I see your point,” he said, and started at how cold Qrow’s hands were as he took them in his own. “This was insane, but. Thank you.”

Qrow kissed him in response, the warm heat of his mouth at odds with the way the rest of him felt like embracing a man-shaped ice sculpture.

Ozpin melted. Qrow, from his continued frigidness, did not.

“Missed you,” Qrow murmured against his mouth, pressed in close and seemingly obvious to his own impending hypothermia. Although maybe he was trying to leech warmth from Ozpin, like some sort of heat vampire.

Ozpin smiled in spite of himself. “I missed you too,” he said, then raised his voice as he added pointedly, “Did you miss Qrow, Oscar?”

“Yeah,” Oscar said, equally loudly. “And this isn’t weird for me at all. You guys know the door’s still open, right?”

So it was.

Qrow rolled his eyes and turned to slam the door shut. “Way to kill the mood, Oscar.”

“I’m okay with that,” Oscar said, exasperated yet already more at ease.

“This would also be a good time to remind you that you should take a warm shower and change into some dry clothes before we have to drive you to the hospital next,” Ozpin said, taking Qrow by the shoulders and steering him towards the bedroom. “Did you wade through the snow all the way to the apartment building?”

“Maybe,” Qrow admitted, and sneezed. “Okay, fine, you win,” he grumbled, trailing melting snow all the way down the hall.

Oscar and Ozpin exchanged a glance in the silence.

“You know how there’s some guys in rock bands,” Oscar began slowly, “where you never even remember their names and you completely forget them after the band breaks up?”

Ozpin began to smile, suspecting where the question would lead. “I’m familiar, yes.”

“Qrow’s not one of those guys,” Oscar said. He cocked his head to the side. “I mean I didn’t really know STRQ, but I’m guessing that Qrow’s gotten even crazier in his solo years without the others to hold him back.”

“Back in his STRQ years he had an alcohol problem and a bandmate that frequently set him on fire,” Ozpin replied, and felt a pang of regret at the way Oscar’s face fell at the correction. “That said, it is his completely unrepentant personality that allowed him to make a solo comeback even while married and sober.” He smiled fondly. “He’s not the hard drinking scandal magnet anymore, but he still acts the part enough to draw a crowd.”

He swiped half heartedly at some of the water trail with a socked foot, grimacing as it soaked up the cold water. “And thank you for bringing everything in. Unfortunately I usually prioritize whatever damage Qrow’s done to himself over everything else, regardless of how practical it might be to do so in the moment.”

“No problem,” Oscar said, smiling, and glanced back at the kitchen. “Should we maybe have some real food ready for him by the time he gets out of the shower?”

Ozpin clapped his hands together. “Yes,” he said quickly. “And for ourselves as well. It’s one thing for me to neglect my health, but yours…” His heart leapt at the sight of a box of hot chocolate mixture sitting on the kitchen table. “Although, would you care for some hot chocolate? I think I’ll make some for myself at least.”

Oscar made a face. “I think I’m done with that much sweet for the day,” he said, which was something Ozpin could respect but not actually relate to at all. “But Qrow brought home some apple cider, too. I might have some of that. There were some takeout containers I put in the fridge, too, that’s probably for tonight…”

Real food wasn’t as enjoyable as cookies. But yes, it was probably more sustaining.

“So what’d I miss on my road trip?” Qrow asked as he sauntered into the kitchen half an hour later, and Ozpin and Oscar exchanged another uneasy glance.

“Well,” Ozpin drew out uncertainly, and Oscar added a quick, “Your story sounds way more interesting.”

Qrow waved his fork dismissively, munching on another snap pea. “Parts of my story will probably end up on TMZ pretty soon,” he said, which raised further, more worrying questions that he seemed in no hurry to answer. “I’d rather hear about how you guys held out without me.” He leaned conspiratorially towards Oscar. “Don’t tell him I told you, but Oz was real worried about it just being the two of you.”

Ozpin shot him a flat look.

Oscar shrugged self-consciously. “It went okay,” he said, which wasn’t exactly glowing praise, but Ozpin felt a surge of relief nonetheless. “We baked cookies, watched a movie…” he trailed off and stared at his plate.

“We talked about his mother, a little,” Ozpin admitted, and Qrow’s brow furrowed in understanding.

Oscar sighed, dropping his fork. “So much for a merry Christmas, right?” he said. “I appreciate you trying, but…”

“Hey,” Qrow said, frowning. “Nobody’s getting on your case for bringing the mood down, you’re going through something rough. We’ve all been there—”

“I know,” Oscar said, putting his head in his hands. “Ozpin told me how you met, but I can’t help feeling like I’m dragging things down. I don’t know, I just…”

“Did he mention the part where it took two years of dysfunctional friendship before either of us were dating material?” Qrow asked wryly, and Oscar looked up again. “Yeah. Grief sucks. And unfortunately a lot of the time it makes you feel like you suck, too. My nieces lost their mom when they were pretty young, and it still took ‘em years to get over it. And part of Tai never did. But you let people help you up and you bleed together, and before you know it Christmas Eve’s got that anticipatory joy back as you set fire to that wicker reindeer stuffed full of sparklers in the backyard to get rid of any Yuletide negativity.”

“What,” Oscar said flatly, and Ozpin had to smother a grin.

“The point is,” Qrow said, “grief’s like a hole in the ground. You think you can claw your way out and it turns out you’re just getting yourself even more stuck. You either need a hand up or some support from the other people stuck down there with you.” He gestured to himself and Ozpin. “And we’re here to help you out.”

Oscar smiled. “Thanks,” he said quietly, and Ozpin took his cues from earlier and silently gave him a hug.

“So we’re hugging now?” Qrow asked, and Ozpin replied with a firm “Yes,” in time with Oscar’s frustrated “Was it just me? Was I giving out no-hugging vibes?” before Qrow scooted around the table to join them.

“You know what?” Qrow said after they detangled, “I’m gonna treat you to something special. Be right back.”

“I’m a little afraid,” Oscar said as they watched him race off.

“You probably should be,” Ozpin admitted.

Of what, even Ozpin wasn’t sure quite yet.

“You deserve some Christmas music,” Qrow said triumphantly, emerging with a CD that made Ozpin’s stomach drop into his shoes.

“Qrow,” he said warningly.

“C’mon, Oz,” Qrow replied, already loading it into the CD player, “it’s a STRQ exclusive. Never released early stuff, even if Oscar’s not a fan you gotta admit that’s pretty special. The Xiao Long-Roses play it every Christmas, might as well adopt the tradition for our family too.”

“I am so sorry,” Ozpin said solemnly to Oscar, which was about all the time he had before the so-called music started.

“Oh my God,” Oscar said, staring wide-eyed as Qrow rocked out to a very dubious rendition of The First Noel. “What is this?”

“A joke album they recorded for themselves before they hit it big,” Ozpin answered, massaging his temples and raising his voice over the noise. “If you think this is bad, they’re switching instruments soon. Qrow and Taiyang enjoy playing it for unsuspecting STRQ fans and Christmas carolers alike.”

Ozpin couldn’t help but smile as Oscar started bobbing hesitantly along to the music. “This was a very painful memory to them, once,” he said. “Between Raven leaving, and Summer… I think it’s a little inaccurate to say time heals all wounds. But it does eventually give you enough distance to remember the good times.” He cringed at a guitar riff clearly delivered by someone not used to handling a guitar. “I’m sorry this is the form it has to take.”

Oscar grinned. “I dunno, I think it’s kind of catchy,” he said, and before Ozpin could voice his abject betrayal, Qrow dragged them both up to dance with him.

Well, if the STRQ Christmas album proved anything, it was that nothing had gone at all according to plan.

But at the end of the day it wasn’t the worst way to usher in their first Christmas.

-

“So,” Qrow said with a prompting smile, following Ozpin into the bedroom at around one in the morning, long after Oscar had finally passed out in his own bed.

“So,” Ozpin echoed back with a skeptically raised eyebrow.

“Went all right with just the two of you, right?” Qrow said pointedly, slipping an arm around his waist and squeezing. “World didn’t end? Oscar didn’t pick the blizzard over spending time with you?”

Ozpin sighed, tucking his head into the crook of Qrow’s neck. “It was a bit…awkward, at first,” he said. “But we worked it out in the end, yes. In some ways I’m grateful we were able to have the talk, even if treating him to a show and a Christmas abroad might’ve served as a better distraction.” He pressed a kiss to his neck. “Thank you for putting up with my baggage.”

A laugh rumbled Qrow’s chest. “Hey, I made you put up with mine long enough,” he said. “And anyway, the kid’s not baggage.”

Ozpin drew away to face him. “I meant my anxiety,” he said, giving his chest a light shove. “I’m much better with the written word than I am with orating.”

Qrow snickered and pressed a light kiss to his lips. “Probably because you call it orating,” he said, and pressed another quick succession of kisses to his nose and beneath his eye. “You did great today. All by your lonesome.”

Ozpin stroked his thumbs along Qrow’s cheekbones, then brushed some hair away from his eyes. “But I do so much better with you,” he murmured, and kissed him.

Qrow kissed him back with a great deal more heat, slipping an arm around his waist again, and it _had_ been a while, between Qrow’s music tour and all the disaster in between, and Ozpin slid his hands down to Qrow’s chest to drag him forward by his sweatshirt in response.

Qrow laughed softly against his mouth. “I missed you too,” he said, sliding his hands beneath Ozpin’s shirt, and Ozpin broke away long enough to let him pull it off.

Lust wasn’t enough to make Ozpin miss the way Qrow swayed with what couldn’t have been intoxication in over eight years. “If you’re not up for this…” he began, regretting his choice of words the moment they left his mouth.

And Qrow really must’ve been tired, because rather than leap on the unintended innuendo, he shook his head with a firm, “Oh no, I can make it through one round, even if I’m holding it together with caffeine and shoelaces.”

Ozpin looked into his warm, but exhausted red eyes and made an executive decision. “Take a load off at least, and I’ll take the lead,” he said with a sly smile, and shoved Qrow on to the bed.

“Merry Christmas to me,” Qrow breathed as Ozpin settled down in his lap, tossing off his own shirt and dragging him back in for another kiss. He groaned into Ozpin’s mouth as Ozpin ground his hips down, both of them already more than half-hard.

It was only a few minutes into the making out and frottage—Qrow’s tongue hot in his mouth, Qrow’s fingers digging bruises into his hips as they moved—that Ozpin remembered that there was supposed to be a second part to this plan. He tore his mouth away with a breathless, disjointed, “I have to—the drawer—and pants—” He staggered away to kick off his pants, tossing his glasses haphazardly on the nightstand as he groped blindly for the lube in the drawer.

Qrow laughed softly, shucking off his own pants and lazily stroking his erection with half-lidded eyes. “You had a strong start but I’m gonna have to deduct a few points for poor planning.”

“It was spontaneity,” Ozpin hissed, struggling to even his breathing as he pressed two slicked fingers inside himself, and despite his words Qrow didn’t look to be protesting the show. “That’s—sensual—”

“Yeah, sure, okay, just don’t break something tripping over your own pants trying to get back over here— _okay_ ,” Qrow gasped, as Ozpin straddled him again and sank down on his cock.

God, Ozpin had missed this—Qrow’s cock stretching him open as he rocked down, the only sound their ragged breathing over the blood roaring in his ears. He exhaled shakily as he settled down fully in Qrow’s lap, pressing soft, sucking kisses along his neck and shoulders as he took a moment to adjust. He paused back at Qrow’s mouth, hovering short of contact. “Are you good?” he asked breathlessly, stroking the hair at the nape of Qrow’s neck.

“Yeah,” Qrow breathed back, punctuating it with a thrust that made Ozpin’s lips part on a soft moan.

“Good,” Ozpin murmured, and began to move.

He’d had a lot pent up, apparently—hands gripping at Qrow’s shoulders as he rode him hard, putting every week apart and every hour of stress into the grind of his hips and his fast, steady pace. He felt Qrow become undone beneath him, moaning shamelessly as he rocked down and thrusting up to meet him.

His rhythm faltered as Qrow’s hands slid away from his hips to caress his thighs, fingers dragging up to wrap around his leaking cock, jerking him off in time with his unraveling pace. The fingers of Qrow’s other hand tangled in his hair, dragging him in for another kiss as they moved, messy and frantic in their need.

Qrow nipped his lip in time with a creative twist of the wrist, and Ozpin came with a soft cry over his fingers, feeling heat spread inside him as Qrow came moments later as Ozpin’s nails bit into his shoulders.

“Merry Christmas,” Ozpin murmured between more slow, wet kisses, and Qrow stroked his hair.

“Merry Christmas,” Qrow echoed back, with a soft kiss to his temple.

Ozpin clambered off him as they settled down beneath the sheets for the night.

“Thank you for being here,” Ozpin said softly, and Qrow pressed another kiss to his hand.

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” he said. “You’re worth it.”

-

Qrow retracted this sentiment several hours later on Christmas morning, when Ozpin and Oscar used the element of surprise and their new tag-teaming skills to thoroughly trounce him in a round of Smash Brothers.

But he reinstated it when he successfully regained his crown in round two.


End file.
